


This Sort of Thing

by KairouWatoshimi



Category: Hollywood U: Rising Stars
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-18 01:37:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3551201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KairouWatoshimi/pseuds/KairouWatoshimi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was something like a date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Sort of Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Another request for my love. I would very much like to punch you sometimes. Enjoy!

Their first date was at the movie theaters. Actually, it was a school project where he went with her—and half the class—but one couldn’t tell if they were to judge by the way he acted the morning of. Like an utter and complete _fool._ He had spent an additional half an hour in front of the mirror, fondling his tie more times than he could count. And then there was that strand of hair that he couldn’t get to lie down no matter how hard he tried. Thomas made the mistake of wondering why he was trying so hard and then immediately paled at the sudden realization. It officially set his bad mood for the rest of the day.

They were waiting for him outside the theater room, which had been reserved specifically for his class. Unsurprisingly, she was at the center of the group, surrounded by her vast entourage. “—and called _me_ out in the middle of class just so he could remind me not to be late,” she was saying, her back facing him so she was unable to see his approach. “Who’s the late one now?”

He scowled, eyebrows twitching.

“Hypocritical, sleazy, son of a—”

Addison, noticing him from the corner of her eyes shut her up with a firm elbow jab to the side.

“Ow!” she cried out. “What did you—” She cut herself off and he could practically hear her gulp. Tensing for a moment, she slowly turned around, as if hoping he would not be standing behind her. _Tough luck._ She flinched upon meeting his furious eyes but recovered quickly enough. “Hello, Professor,” she chirped, facial expression smoothing out. He had to give her props for that; she could pull innocent off to the tee. And it would have worked too, if he was anyone but himself. “How are you doing on this fine morning?”

“Perfectly acceptable,” he answered in a tone that suggested anything but before narrowing his eyes. “Please, do continue.”

Seeing that her innocent act wasn’t going to work around him, she abandoned it as quickly as she picked it up and returned his glare. “It’s not like I was saying anything that wasn’t true,” she retorted which only made him scowl harder. How many times, he had to wonder, would it take him to learn that telling her off only made her want to match him wit for wit. She had never cowed before him and didn’t seem like she was going to start anytime soon.

“Just get into the room!” he snapped at the rest of the class, who were staring at the scene intently. Their banter was becoming more or less of a sport for everyone else; it was infuriating. He was pretty sure there was a betting pool going around on who would kill the other first. “Sit somewhere in the middle but make sure you’re all in the same row. Am I clear?”

“But professor!” someone whined. “I prefer watching movies from the back of the room.”

He glared. “I don’t care.”

“Why can’t we sit where we want?” another asked.

Never in all his years of teaching had he ever had the displeasure of being in charge of such a disrespectful group of students before. Priya was right; he really was much too lenient on them. However, he blamed it entirely on _her;_ ever since she stepped into his classroom and showed everyone else that his attitude did not affect her, even his glares wasn’t enough to shut everyone up sometimes. Before her, they’ve always worked. “You think I’m stupid?” he demanded, making more than one person cringe. “We’re here to observe and critique. We’re not here so you idiots can pretend you’re on some date; don’t think I didn’t notice you guys partnering up.” If they were so desperate that they were going to use his trip as a date, he might as well make it as uncomfortable as possible for them.

They groaned mournfully and Thomas gave himself a mental pat on the back for a job well done. In front of him, she had already completely recovered from his sudden appearance behind her and was leaning towards her friend. Dropping her voice in a soft whisper, she said, “Hunt just _really_ needs to get himself laid.”

He dropped his hand on her shoulder and she tensed upon contact. He heard her swallow again as she turned to face him, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Yes?” she squeaked, realizing her comment wasn’t as quiet as she would have liked.

“You,” he hissed, glaring through narrowed eyes. “With me.”

Her tensed shoulders drooped in disappointment. “Yes, Professor,” she replied.

Addison shot her a concerned look but he waved her on, which she scrambled to obey, lest he redirects his ire to _her._ They made their way into the darkened theater room, small lights on the floor of the aisle lighting their way. He watched with sharp eyes as the class shuffled their way into their seats, one after the other. He nodded in her direction, “After you.”

She smiled, “I prefer the aisle seat.”

“Now.”

Grumbling under her breath, she eased herself between the two rows and dropped into her seat with a huff. He raised an eyebrow but chose not to comment. Looking to make sure that nothing was out of place, he unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat down, bringing his arms up to lie on the armrest only to find one of them already occupied. Thomas immediately tensed as the soft skin of her little finger brushed up against his own. Swallowing hard, his eyes darted around him uncomfortably. Perhaps forcing her to sit next to him was not such a good idea, after all.

He exhaled slowly and chanced a glance in her direction. She was either a better actress than he thought or she really didn’t care about occupying the same armrest as him. With narrowed eyes, he wiggled his arm until he successfully pushed hers off, earning a soft squeak in protest.

By this time, the movie had already started but she turned and glared anyway, not afraid to call him out. “You know,” she said slowly. “A gentleman would have offered me the armrest.”

He sniffed. “I’m sure he would have,” he intoned. Was he _supposed_ to do something with that useless bit of information?

Thomas could feel her stare at him for a moment but when it was clear that he was neither going to give up nor share the armrest, she cross her arms over her chest and huffed again. He smirked inwardly as she turned back to face the big screen, glaring at nothing in particular. While they spent the next few minutes in blissful silence, Thomas was anything _but_ calm. He was much too hyperaware of the presence next to him and not even the movie could hold his attention for long. It was a failure of a movie too, with bad characters and even worst actors. Thomas found his eyes betraying him as they shifted in her direction more than once.

 _This is ridiculous,_ he thought, feeling quite disgusted with himself. He was sure he had better control over himself than this.

“She’s such a bad actress,” she whispered, wrinkling her nose.

He side-glanced at her. “I hope you’ll come up with more than that when you write your essay.”

She glared in response and rolled her eyes; lights from the movie lighting up her facial features almost ominously. “Really, Professor,” she said, her voice soft. “You should know me better than that. I write brilliant essays.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “That’s why you got a C on your last one.”

“It was a C plus,” she grumbled, turning back to the screen. “It would have at least been a B if you weren’t such a—” she cut herself off. Despite the poor lighting, he could still make out her blush.

“Please,” he commented dryly. “Don’t let my presence stop you from continuing.” He waited, staring at her with narrowed eyes. He may have defended her during her hearing, but he wasn’t lying when he called her overconfident and narcissistic. While they were both traits that would usually make one dislike her, she makes it up with her down-to-earth personality and willingness to help and accept everyone around her. Realizing the path his traitorous thoughts were currently going down, Thomas turned away again, forcing himself to concentrate on the movie.

He never noticed that the tension that ran through her body until she relaxed. It was then, Thomas noticed, that she had somehow managed to sneak her arm back onto the armrest without him knowing. Working his jaw in annoyance, he turned and glared. She pretended not to notice but he could see her attempting to hide a smile.

He considered telling her off but had a feeling that she was expecting that particular reaction. Instead, he decided to ignore her, refocusing on the movie he should have already been focused on. To be completely honest, he had no idea what was happening but some random character was currently dying onscreen. Over-dramatic, if you asked him.

Just as he was about to relax again—or as relaxed as he could get around her—she flexed her little finger, brushing it up against his own. His insides churned, fire heating in the pit of his stomach. Thomas exhaled slowly, and it was only when she did it again, did he realize that she was doing it on purpose. Her movements were slow and sensual, sending an electrifying shock through him. Seeing that he wasn’t stopping her, she continued on, gaining confidence and shifted her hand slightly so it was slightly on top of his. Small, nimble fingers skimmed over his knuckles.

They were playing a dangerous game.

He shifted his position, never once breaking contact with her and moved closer until their shoulders were pressed against each other. He exhaled again, slowly, deeply, not wanting to break the delicate magic of whatever was going on. And they continued like that for a good while, her subtly stroking his finger and him pretending not to notice.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

His heart shuddered to a stop when he felt a heavy weight fall onto his shoulder, the smell of lavender brushed up against his senses. He tensed; what was she doing? It might have been dark in the confinement of the theater room but if anyone were to look over... Thomas cringed at the possibilities. He turned towards her, glaring as he opened his mouth to tell her off and end this dangerous game and promptly froze.

He blinked.

She was asleep.

She was _asleep._

Eyebrows twitching in annoyance, Thomas raised his hand and reached for her. He had planned on flicking her nose, pinching her cheeks, or _something_ but instead, he found himself brushing away a strand of loose hair. She murmured softly in response and wiggled herself into a more comfortable position against him. He sighed, feeling all the fight and tension leave his body since her head easily fitted into the crook of his neck as if it had always belonged. A warm feeling spread through him and he almost sighed in contentment before realizing that the warm sort-of feeling was because she had just drooled on him.

**Author's Note:**

> Writing without a name seriously limits my writing ability. I didn’t actually think it was this bad until this specific story. It is because of her lack of name that made it impossible for me to write from her point of view, which is why I’ve been writing from Hunt’s perspective. Thankfully, she has given permission to change it up in future stories (because she wanted a lot, so expect some more MCxHunt stories, I guess).


End file.
